Almost Human: the Slash Edition
by Imladviel
Summary: A treasure from my old files, something I never dared publish before: A Slash version of my Evil Elrond fanfic 'Almost Human'. Enjoy! Pairings: Elrond/Legolas, Elrond/Glorfindel, Elrond/lots of male elves.
1. Dorwinion Wine

I found a treasure among my long-lost files that I recovered from a memory stick: A slash version of my very popular 'Evil Elrond' fanfic 'Almost Human'. The other version can be found on my Arwen Imladviel account.

Promise/warning: slash in every chapter. Elrond's life is full of difficult questions. Such as: who is this guy in my bed and why can't I remember anything of last night?

Disclaimer: Characters 'borrowed' from J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema.

Warning: Contains slash

May contain nuts.

**Almost Human – the Slash Edition**

_**Chapter one: Dorwinion Wine**_

**Year 2590 of the Third Age**

**Imladris**

Elrond woke with a headache. That was nothing to worry about – some athelas would soon dispel it. But he also woke with someone's arms around him. And he had no idea who it might be – in fact hardly any memory of the previous night at all. The mysterious stranger in his bed held him tight so he could not turn and face him. He hazarded a wild guess:

'Gilrod, how many times do I have to remind you that I am not your cuddly toy! I can hardly get any air the way you're squeezing me… and your hair is in my face… oops…'

A ray of the morning sun allowed him to se the offending hair was blond.

'…So sorry, Glorfindel! I had no idea you were back in Rivendell. You know how it is…'

But the other replied in soft whisper:

'I am not lord Glorfindel. Sorry to disappoint you.' And the arms remained, pinning him almost helpless. He looked down. No rings; no clue whatsoever… until Elrond noticed the worn fingernails and felt the slightly harder skin on some of the fingers that held him. It is almost impossible to recognize an elf as an archer by his hands, but the marks are there for someone with the eyes to see them. Or, as it was, skin to feel them. As if reading his thoughts, the man caressed his nipple, causing the elf-lord to sigh half in pleasure half in pain at the thought of a night full of hot memories now lost to his addled brain.

'Torturing me, are you? How cruel. You must be Haldir. No one else would dare.'

'It is you who tortures me with all these names! You truly cannot remember?'

'I must have drunk something that has clouded my head.'

'Dorwinion wine, the best and strongest.'

'Elbereth! Must have been strong indeed. And I suppose I had one too many.'

'No. You had at least five cups too many, my lord. You drank Gilrod Inglorion under the table in a silly contest. Then your son, I forget which one, tried to help you to bed but you wrestled him till he gave up. Then you asked the lady Malwen to sing but you addressed her in a rather untactful way so she took offence and left the room. Her cousins went with her and so did the harper and the last two of my companions still awake. And then you declared the party was over, since there was no one but us left, and took me here.'

'Sounds like me. So it must have been as you say. But I still can't remember a thing.'

'Oh. Too bad for you. I have no words for what you did next so I'll have to show you…'

He kissed Elrond's neck with passion, sending up a wave of pleasure and sweet promise. Then, all of a sudden, the mysterious lover wove his legs around his, forcing him to open… he was then pushed and wrestled until he was on all fours, still just as helpless, as powerless, captured. His lover entered him from behind, roughly, using no oil. He bit the pillow to keep himself from screaming. Yet he was aroused, even the headache was gone, he felt better he had believed possible so soon after waking up in a hangover. He felt alive, burning with life and desire. He felt young.

Then came the memories. Not the lost ones of the previous night, but fond treasures from long ago. From the time before his marriage to Celebrían. Memories from his burning youth and the strange fate that had thrown so many men, both elves and mortals, into each other's arms in hope and despair. Seven long years in Mordor. The Siege of Barad-Dûr. The Last Alliance, which also happened to be the time when a certain young herald had found his sexual identity… with someone very special. No one could ever replace Gil-Galad.

But by Elbereth, this one came close!

Then the lover's hand caressed his erect manhood, sending away all thoughts but those of the moment, rubbing him faster, faster, until he could endure no more and came with a moan. And his lover came with him.

Then he was released, only to be turned around gently and caught in a softer embrace. At last he saw the face of his lover. And he still did not know him, could not place him in his memories.

Handsome and somehow so very young, almost innocent. Sindarin, but certainly not from Rivendell – such features would not pass unnoticed.

'Tell me your name and I swear I will not forget it.'

He saw the disappointment in the gray eyes.

'I had hoped that – that _love_ could overcome even the effects of Dorwinion wine. Very well. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, and I love you.'

'Oh, Legolas… my love.' And with those words, Elrond of Rivendell fell asleep. Legolas raised himself on his elbows and looked on the handsome features of his lover, so calm now, so majestic.

'Sleep now, my love, my lord. You have earned your rest. Elbereth knows you kept me up till sunrise, till I was spent and begged for mercy. Not once but seven times you pinned me under you! I almost believed it was no Dorwinion wine at all you'd drunk… but I guess it brings down everyone, one way or the other, sooner or later.'

He lay down and stretched his arms. Soon he too was asleep, and only the morning sun saw his contented smile.


	2. The Burden of Time

_**Chapter Two: The Burden of Time**_

**Year 2720 of the Third Age**

**Imladris**

Legolas had not visited Rivendell for over a century now, not since the first time. Elrond guessed it was because his father had forbidden it. Thranduil kept his children under strict discipline. The Woodland King probably would not have allowed even the first visit had it not been necessary to discuss trade and the new dwarven settlements in Erebor and the Iron Hills. Elrond was surprised to realise that he actually missed his young lover. He had others, yes, but in his heart an emptiness remained, a hunger that no one else could satisfy.

Early one September morning he stood on the balcony of his rooms, gazing thoughtfully at the Misty Mountains. He had been up and about long before dawn, thinking. Reminiscing.

Glorfindel stepped out, combing his hair.

'A fine morning, isn't it?'

Elrond did not answer. He did not even turn towards his friend and lover.

'Is something wrong?' Glorfindel dropped the comb and put his hands on Elrond's shoulders. He pressed against his back and whispered in his ear:

'I know one or two things that might make you feel better.'

Elrond lifted his hand from the balustrade and slapped off Glorfindel's hands like two irritating flies.

'Let me be. There is nothing you can do.'

'That certainly was not your opinion last night.'

'Be silent!' Elrond turned and slapped Glorfindel on the cheek.

'What have I ever done to you?'

'I told you to be silent!' Elrond yelled, and punched his friend in the chin so hard he fell backwards and sprawled on the floor.

'I have no use for your sweet words and cheerful smiles today.'

But Glorfindel was smiling no more.

'Oh, is that so? My _lord_ has no _use_ for me. So he throws me away. Fine. Fine. Fine.'

Glorfindel was usually merry and peaceful, but now there was a bitter edge to his words. He expected Elrond to help him up and apologize - maybe with a kiss. But no, that was not Elrond's way. Still, it hurt, more than any blow. Glorfindel stood up.

'Fine. I'll go. You know what? I'll pack up and I'll go.' He raised his voice.

'And you know where I'll be going, Elrond half-elven? West, that is where. I've had enough. I don't think I'll miss you very much. Celebrían is there, waiting in loneliness, and I'll teach her not to miss you either.' At that last sentence his voice was a low, harsh whisper.

Elrond stared at him. Then he laughed.

'I'm not joking! Elrond, I'm not joking.'

'Glorfindel, you are a joke.'

He moved in a flash. Glorfindel grabbed Elrond by the shoulders and kicked him in the groin with his knee. The lord of Rivendell yelled in pain and bent over.

'Oh, sorry, I must have hit your brain. Or at least the part that was doing the thinking.'

Elrond sat down against the railing of the balcony. He was still shuddering in pain. For a while he stared at Glorfindel with pure rage in his eyes. Then he shook his head, pulled his hand through his hair, and laughed again. But his laughter was now without malice.

'Glorfindel. Oh, my friend. I'm sorry. I deserved that. Please forgive me.'

The golden-haired elf smiled. He knelt down beside Elrond and gave his hand to help him up.

Instead, Elrond pulled him down.

His kiss was hungry. When Glorfindel had his breath back he whispered:

'You're impossible. The way I just kicked you…'

'Nothing broken. A mere shock. Besides, I'm a healer. Let's get someplace softer than this floor and I'll show you!'

Elrond stood up and left the balcony, walking briskly, without looking back to se if Glorfindel followed him. He did, as he always had, as he always would. He told himself he would never get used to Elrond's moods. Of course he loved him as he was, but life would be easier if, for once, their relationship wasn't either ice or fire. Not that he disliked the burning passion of his lover in any way, but Elrond detested all touching and tenderness, except perhaps foreplay. The easiest way to get a hug from him was to wrestle him.


End file.
